Chapter 158
Serena
The past five days had been a whirlwind.
Arthur Lawson's purchase—and more importantly, his public endorsement—had opened doors I'd only dreamed about. Suddenly, everyone wanted Vance Heritage to broker their deals. Phone calls. Emails. In-person consultations from collectors who wouldn't have returned my calls a week ago.
My company wasn't just surviving anymore. It was thriving.
"Miss Vance!" Greyson appeared in my office doorway, grinning like he'd won the lottery. He carried two cups of coffee, setting one on my desk with a flourish. "I just finished distributing the overtime bonuses to the team. They're over the moon."
I took the coffee, grateful for the warmth. "They earned it. This week was brutal."
"Brutal but brilliant." He pulled up a chair, still beaming. "Do you realize what you've accomplished? For the first time in years, we're completely debt-free. Not just breaking even—we're actually profitable. Real, sustainable profit." He leaned forward, eyes bright with excitement. "The team morale is incredible. We should celebrate! Dinner? Drinks? Hell, rent out a whole restaurant if you want—"
He stopped mid-sentence, his smile faltering. "Wait. Are you okay? You look..." He tilted his head, studying my face. "Are you too tired? We can postpone if you need rest."
I forced a smile, glancing down at my phone on the desk. The screen was dark. Silent. The message thread with Lance hadn't updated in five days.
Five days since that kiss in the gallery.
Five days of radio silence.
"Yeah," I heard myself say. "I'm just exhausted. Five days straight, barely any sleep. Now that things are settling down, it's hitting me." I waved him off. "You guys celebrate. My treat. Put it on the company card. You all deserve it."
Greyson hesitated, clearly wanting to push. But something in my expression must have warned him off. "Alright. But seriously, take care of yourself. You've been running on fumes."
"I will. Promise. Now go—enjoy the celebration."
He left, closing the door softly behind him.
The moment I was alone, the smile dropped.
I stared at my phone. Picked it up. Scrolled through the message history with Lance. His last text had been five days ago—a simple confirmation about the Monet transaction.
Nothing since.
Not a congratulations on the publicity. Not a check-in about how the business was doing. Not even a casual "how are you" that could be construed as professional courtesy.
Nothing.
"Five days," I muttered to the empty office. "I worked myself to death for five days, and he can't send one fucking text?"
I took a long sip of coffee, trying to rationalize. Maybe he was busy. Maybe there was a crisis at Lawson Capital. Maybe—
Maybe he forgot about the kiss.
The thought landed like ice in my stomach.
Or worse—maybe he was playing games. Testing me. Seeing if I'd chase him. The classic push-pull, hot-and-cold manipulation that powerful men loved to use.
Or worst of all—maybe Eleanor had lined up another "suitable" candidate for him to meet. Some heiress with the right pedigree, the right connections, the right everything that I wasn't.
The coffee suddenly tasted bitter.
I set down the cup with more force than necessary, grabbed my bag, and stood.
Fuck this. Fuck waiting. Fuck wondering.
If Lance Lawson thought he could kiss me like that—like I mattered, like I was something more than a business transaction—and then ghost me for five days, he had another thing coming.
I was going to his office. Right now. And he was going to explain himself.
---
Lawson Capital's headquarters loomed over Midtown like a monument to wealth and power. I'd been here enough times to know the route—through the marble lobby, past security who barely glanced at me anymore, up to the executive floor.
The elevator opened on floor 65. Lance's floor.
I walked with purpose down the hallway, heels clicking on polished marble, until I reached the massive oak door labeled "CEO - Lance Lawson."
I knocked. Once. Twice.
No answer.
I knocked again, harder. Still nothing.
My hand moved to the door handle—
"Excuse me!" A sharp voice cut across the hallway. "Where do you think you're going?"